


The Starborn Boy

by cjthestarboy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Cute, Family Fluff, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjthestarboy/pseuds/cjthestarboy
Summary: Legend has it that sometimes, someone wishes upon a Star so hard, and so intensely, that the star explodes into millions of pieces, where a child is born out of the stardust.That child’s quest is to fulfill the The wishes of that said someone, and are granted the necessary powers to do so.However, this Starboy is about to change his destiny.
Relationships: Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Starborn Boy

What a wonderful scene there is before Sealand, a pretty picture painted just for his liking. He sits on the comfortable couch, next to his dog. His mother stands in front of them with a video camera, cooing happily at the two. His father resides in the kitchen, humming peacefully as he cooks up a delicious breakfast.

Peter is used to this scene, it’s his family. This is how it is every morning, and he doesn’t mind it at all. The living room begins to smell of fresh bacon, and scrambled eggs. Licking his lips, he heard his father call:

“Breakfast is ready!”

The boy jumped up from his seat, startling the puppy, who then began to follow Peter to the kitchen. He took a nice sniff of the air, though breakfast is identical to every other day’s meal, he loves the smell anyway. 

They all take their respective spots at the table, besides Peter’s father, who makes him a glass of orange juice. 

His mother speaks up with her calming voice, laying her hand on his own, she says,

“King Arthur has summoned you to his room.”

“What?” 

Her voice began to sound deeper, and the room began to get dark. 

“King Arthur has summoned you to his room.”

His eyes shot open.

That’s the boy’s alarm. Every morning, at 7:00 sharp, he hears those words ring through his peaceful sleep, disrupting his perfect dreams.

He flops out of bed, tired of the early mornings and the pain of having to wake up from his fantasy. Peter’s dreams always seemed to be better than his reality, though he assumes that’s typical of twelve year old boys such as himself. Even so, there’s a sense of longing to stay in his dreams, where he doesn't have to wake up at seven in the morning to make the king breakfast. 

He gets his usual greetings from the servants at the palace as he prances through the halls:

“Good day, Peter.”

“Mornin’ kiddo.”

“Hey, Starboy!”

He cringes. That nickname is going to haunt him for life. He hates it, oh how he hates it. He just wishes he was more like his friends, and the whole fate of the planet wasn’t in his hands. Why is the whole fate of the planet in his hands? Who knows? King Arthur does. He always says things like: “one day, you’ll be old enough to change the world.” 

He doesn’t even know what that means yet.

He has a feeling he never will.

The boy’s thoughts scattered as he approached the large, shiny door. It’s covered in jewels, and made with a lot of detail. It’s hard for him to think King Arthur put time into handcrafting it. 

He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door…

_ Knock, knock. _

From the other side, a voice beams, “come in, Peter. Come in.”

He enters the room reluctantly. No, no, he won’t say he hates the king, because the king is the only reason he’s alive. His destiny bends to Arthur’s will. 

“Good morning, King Arthur,” said Peter, with a smile that he learned it’s best to fake.

“Good morning, my little wish. Sit.” He pats the smaller throne not too far away from his own, gesturing for the boy to sit beside him.

The window before them is wide, and tall, tall enough to be able to see the entire city. Peter finds it hard to understand why when he sees the citizens, they look happy. They look strangely happy. He envies them. 

“Ahhh, would you look at how lovely it is tonight? The streets are busy, the people are delighted, and the galaxy is just-“ 

Cutting the ramble out of his mind, he took a bit to appreciate the night sky. It’s always dark, and it’s quite cold, too. But when you look up at the bunches of colors, the dark blues, the magenta swirls, the turquoise bursts… the cold doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He doesn’t care about the stars. Everyone gawks over how beautiful they are, and Peter is completely unamused by this. Perhaps because he was born from a star, he is unimpressed by the way they shine. Still ignoring the elder, he thinks: 

_ Gosh, is the sky so mysterious. There could be thousands, even millions of planets hiding beyond what the king lets me see. Maybe in the world out there, there’s unicorns and dragons, like in the storybooks. Maybe in the world out there, there’s wizards and witches. Maybe in the world out there, there’s a family just like the one I dream of… _

The daydreamer is broken out of his fantasy by a loud laugh, remembering that the king is still talking, but not considering letting him finish.

“What did you call me for, your majesty?” He could see the elder’s lips twist into a frown, and his eyebrows furrow. Taking a minute to observe the man, he notices something. He already has breakfast, and his tea looks fresh. Peter isn’t used to this, since he’s the one who prepares the king’s breakfast every morning. He also notices how unpleasant it is to look at his ruler. The way his forehead wrinkles when he frowns, the way he sneers instead of smiles, it all makes Peter’s stomach churn. 

“Don’t interrupt me boy. You know how I like it when you interrupt.” 

“Yes, I know.”

A sigh escaped Arthur’s lips as he rested his head on his fist. 

“I called you because I wanted to tell you why you’re here.”

This response confused the boy. He knows why he’s here, to make King Arthur’s wish come true. 

His wish was probably something shallow; money, fame, immortality… If he wasn’t one of the Starborn himself, he would wish for a family. A REAL family. A mom, a dad, and maybe a little fluffy puppy. A real family that doesn’t only love him because he makes wishes come true. A real family that gives him coloring books, and toy trains, instead of training him to “conquer anything.” 

He shook off the thought, in fear that the king knows what he thinks about.

“I know why I’m here, sir. I’m here to make your wish come true.”

“I’ve decided you’re old enough to know what that wish is, Peter.”

_ I’m going to learn about my purpose, twelve fudging years into my life…  _ Peter thought, but mentally slapped himself after remembering his fear of the mind-reading monster.

“Do tell,” he paused, “please.”

“My wish is to rid this world of any problems. And you, my little wish, have the power to make that happen.” His typical frown curled back up into the unsettling sneer he’d walked into the room upon.

“How do you plan on making all the problems go away? I bet you a dollar it’s not a piece of cake.”

“Listen, kiddo, if there’s one problem we can fix, it’s the intruders in our soil. Our land. It’s covered in pesky bugs, and you, Peter, you’re the exterminator.”

“What do you mean? I saw a caterpillar the other day, but I don’t think there’s all that many bugs here-“

“No, Peter,” He interrupted. “The Zombies.”

Peter frowned. 

“You know they don’t like to be called that, but you do it anyway.”

There was a moment of silence, and Peter’s thoughts once again raced as he processed the situation.

_ He wants me to kill them.  _ His thoughts screamed.  _ I’m only a boy, and he wants me to be a murderer.  _ They pounded at his head until he felt he needed to cover his ears to stop the screaming. 

_ And there’s no getting out of it. _

Peter couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not for what followed; a small cough, and a tap on the shoulder. Just enough to get him out of his head.

“You want me to kill them.”

“Not kill them, no, only kick them back where they belong. In Hell.” 

The smaller boy went silent. The king’s wish, the wish he was created to fulfill… it was to kill. He started to believe it was just a nightmare. Pinching himself, he whined when the result wasn’t in his favor. He’d really have to slaughter them. Sealand has friends that are from Zomzo, they’re all his age. That’s when it sunk deeper into his heart, and created a small empty space that could only be filled by justice.

_ Justice that can’t be achieved. _

“Okay.” He forced his reply out of his mouth, but he refused to put on his false smile. “I’ll do it.”

A chuckle came from the taller man. This startled Peter. 

“You don’t have a choice, boy. Our new rule is simple, if you’re Zomzoian and you’re still on my planet, you will be killed.”

Every part of the boy’s body wanted to scream as Arthur rambled on.

“As you know, today is the deadline of our previous compromise, and quite a few haven’t left our ground yet.” There was a slight pause, and for a second Peter actually believed he felt guilty. “I’ve already caught a bunch, they’re waiting for you. Why don’t you hurry and eat so we can hold the  _ sweetest  _ of ceremonies.”

_ Sweetest. _

He cringes. Such a lovely word to describe such a terrible situation. 

However, he obeys, getting up from the small seat, and running to the door. Once he leaves the king’s room, his eyes grow wide at the sight before him: a long line of Zamzonian citizens, miserable and restricted, staring directly at him.

It’s hard not to tear up, run away, and hide from the mess he’d just made. 

He walks swiftly, the big hallway seems to get narrow, like the pressure is pushing him towards the people he’d soon have to end. Trying to push his thoughts away, the Starboy focused on the citizens. A bad idea, really, but it’s better than living with his own spiraling void of thoughts. 

There’s a wide variety of people there. Some old, some young, even children stand before him. Families of innocent people waiting for their determined fate. His eyes lock onto that of a child. She looks to be about six, holding on to her mother’s arm while staring back at the distraught boy. 

“Mother, that’s him,” the girl stated nervously, pointing her finger at Peter.

He felt her gaze pierce through him, even through tears and stress, someone can feel such strong anger. Emotions are very curious to the Starboy. 

“It’s the bastard child!” The mother called out, giving the rest of the bunch the confidence to call out too.

“You’ve damned us all.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“He’s going to kill us without a doubt in his mind.”

“You’re a monster.”

_ “This is all your fault.” _

He paused in his stride, staring down at his hands. Could he really imagine himself killing these people with the powers he thought were a blessing? He’s cursed to follow every single order the  _ disgusting  _ king gives him, while he could be doing much better for the world. 

_ Smack. _

He was hit directly in his nose by a thick, heavy shoe. He felt his nose start to bleed, but he didn’t move. Peter wanted to be pelted with all of their shoes, he wanted to feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders with the sweet relief of being beaten by his victims’ shoes. He wanted to feel something other than the guilt that mercilessly pounds at his skull, something greater than the thoughts that constantly intrude on his happy-go-lucky attitude:

Peter wanted to die.

The whispers of the people watching him had faded, and they all looked down at him with pitiful expressions painted on their faces. 

_ Drip. _

The blood drips down his face, onto his lips, from his lips, rolling onto his chin.

_ Drip. _

It sinks deep into his pajama shirt, almost as deep as it sinks into his self worth.

_ Drip. _

It makes its way to the floor, like raindrops, it seemingly falls endlessly. 

All the people could do was stare. They had no clue what had gotten into the boy, standing there with blood dripping from his nose, making a mess of himself. 

_ Drip. _

Onto his shoes.

_ Drip. _

Onto his pants.

_ Drip. _

Onto the palms of his hands. 

He snaps out of it, staring down at his now soiled clothing, and his skin stained with red. Lifting his head slowly, he looks at the people, who seem to avert their eyes. The mumbling begins again, and they all forget the boy had even been there.

All but one.

This old woman looks at him unlike the others: she had a warm smile, and a soft gaze. 

He was pulled towards the woman, taking a couple of steps forward, aware of being able to be simply killed by one of the citizens. 

She whispered to him with a warm, comforting voice. 

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Peter takes a long inhale, and begins to cry. He begins to bawl, collapsing onto the cold floor. Now it really is like raindrops. He sobs loudly, receiving the same pitiful glances he experienced before. He has no motive to listen to anyone speak to him, or listen to the servants trying to comfort him. He can only cry.

Peter wanted to die.

He eventually stopped with his sobbing, wiping away his tears. But a new emotion raged on in his body: a need. 

He gets back onto his feet, hurling himself at one of the kind servants that wanted nothing more but to comfort him. The boy begins to hit the other, and both him and the other servants backed away. This result made Peter happy. 

“Go on. Go. Run. Go back to your rooms, and never show your faces to me again.”

Peter having the higher authority, they obeyed him, scattering off into their rooms. 

Continuing his march down the hall, he heard the woman say:

_ “Change the world, Starboy.” _


End file.
